


The Only Thing

by lady_wordsmith



Series: Fire, Faith, and Love (Matt Murdock/Reader) [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Jewish Reader, Past Relationship(s), Reader-Insert, Romance, Tumblr Prompt, reader is a translator, which isn't in detail or a long scene, which only comes up like once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_wordsmith/pseuds/lady_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you meet Matt, you're instantly smitten. After some back and forth about your relationship, you tell Matt the only thing you want is honesty.<br/>That works, for a while. Then he leaves you heartbroken.<br/>You just want to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Request from tumblr: "2 ("I need you to forgive me") + 19 ("You walked away. Not me."), Matt Murdock, fluffy ending."
> 
> I tried. Still some angst, but the ending is kind of happy?

Your skills as a translator are unparalleled according to those who know you. You know several languages, chief among them Russian, German, and Czech. While the bulk of your work has always been in translating books by authors fancying themselves the next great novelist of a generation, you also take time to translate documents for various lawyers.

Your older brother had roped you into the work first. He’s an estate lawyer offering services to the poor in Hell’s Kitchen, helping them get their affairs in order so that their families wouldn’t be left holding the bag when they passed on. He had begged for your help in translating for him, and you’ve never been able to say no to him. With your grandparents gone, he _is_ the only family you have.

Then he started talking you up to other lawyers in the area. You thought this made him an asshole, but you did the work that was offered because it was good work and you like helping people (and okay, it saves you from throwing shitty novels against your apartment walls when you just can’t deal with the overwrought prose anymore from shitty fifth-rate Tolstoy or von Goethe wannabes).

Then you met Matt Murdock. At first, you thought this upgraded your brother from “asshole” to “jerk” because you liked Matt, and he seemed to like you. Then, when you fell in love with Matt, it absolved your brother almost completely (sometimes enough for you to consider naming your first child after the poor sod).

Then it went all pear-shaped, and when things crashed and burned, you downgraded your brother all the way down to “complete and utter bag of dicks,” because if it weren’t for his peddling of your translation skills, you would have never met Matt Murdock in the first place.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself.

* * *

The day you met Matt, you had wandered down to your brother’s office with some translations of legal documents for a client of his who spoke Czech. You greeted your sister-in-law, who served as your brother’s secretary, and she told you your brother would be a minute, he was having a meeting with a couple of other lawyers. You thanked her and waited patiently in the foyer, taking the opportunity to give the documents one last check.

You had looked up when your brother called your name. You smiled and handed him the folder of documents. Well, slapped him in the chest with the folder, but no one said you had to be nice to him.

“Ah, what would I do without you?” your brother said, giving you a quick hug.

“Bitch and moan about actually having to pay a translator you’re not related to?” you teased, which earned a chuckle from everyone in the office, including the attorneys he had been meeting with, who you took notice of for the first time.

Your brother quickly made introductions, which made you groan internally because you knew this was going to be another forced networking opportunity. You quickly shook hands with the attorney he introduced as Foggy Nelson, and turned to the other attorney with a forced smile.

This, of course, made you feel a little stupid when you noticed the sunglasses and quickly realized he was blind. When you shook his hand and he gave you a smile, though, you felt your brain stop for a second, because this guy was really cute.

“Matt Murdock,” the guy introduced himself. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you managed to murmur, looking away and feeling your face burn up. Great, you were blushing.

Your brother had noticed and gave you a grin before launching into his usual upsell of you and your translator skills. If you could, you would have stuck your tongue out at him, been the bratty younger sister you had a tendency to be. You settled on maintaining a face of polite neutrality, and decided your revenge could wait.

Besides, you were too busy sneaking glances at Matt.

After your brother was done, you handed Foggy a business card, and told both of them to give you a call if they required your help. You then tried your best to glide out of the office; making the excuse you had an appointment at a publishing house with an author and their agent. You said your goodbyes and headed for the subway. On your way there, you sent a quick text to your sister-in-law.

_Your husband is an ass and it never ceases to amaze me that I share his DNA_ , you told her.

You were pretty sure they all laughed at you back in your brother’s office.

* * *

You expected that to be the end of it. You supposed fate had other plans.

One of your brother’s clients, a Vadim Gorev, was arrested for burglary. Gorev was a man who spoke mostly Russian and had what could generously be termed a limited grasp at English. While your brother was a lawyer, he was an estate lawyer and had no experience in criminal law. He referred the case to Nelson and Murdock.

Either your brother must have reminded them of your skills, or one of them remembered you, because you were quickly roped in as the gentleman’s translator. You didn’t mind much, if it meant you got to work with Matt. You needed the distraction, and the money.

Working with Matt was interesting, because his line of work was different than what you were used to. He took his work seriously, grilling his would-be client, but he also seemed convinced of his innocence.

He also was firm with you, sometimes taking you to task for giving a tactful translation instead of an accurate one.

The problem was that Gorev was uncouth and often confrontational, even when he didn’t need to be. As such, you often found yourself struggling to give an accurate translation in the face of the man’s behavior, which made Matt increasingly hard on you.  The clashes between the two of you were heated, and you knew things would come to a head.

Finally, the dam broke one day, about a month after you began translating. Gorev told Matt to fuck off and die and you tried translating that into a tactful request for Matt to ease up on a line of questioning about the man’s brother, who was a much better suspect for the burglary.

“That’s not what he said,” Matt told you, and if it weren’t for the fact you knew he was blind, you would have thought that he was giving you a hard stare behind those sunglasses of his.

“No, but it’s what he meant,” you tried to argue.

“You’re here to tell me what he says, not what he means.”

You glared at him and felt stupid for doing so, but Matt Murdock struck you as the biggest prick this side of the Atlantic.

“He said for you to fuck off, and I can’t say I disagree.” You said, gathering your things and turning to walk out of Matt’s office. “Find yourself a new translator, Mr. Murdock. I’m here to help, not be treated like a criminal myself.”

You strode out of the office with as much calm and dignity as you could muster, and sent your brother a text telling him to stop referring you to other lawyers, especially Matt Murdock.

That should have been the end of it, too.  But three days later, you received a call from Matt.

“I’d like to apologize,” he told you. “That was… unfair of me. Mr. Gorev is a difficult man, and I know you’re trying to keep things going smoothly.”

“I am,” you agreed, but apologizing yourself. “I apologize if I’m making things difficult for you, Mr. Murdock, but translation is sometimes a delicate art. I’ll err on the side of direct from now on, if it suits you.”

You thought that would be the end of it, and the call, it surprised you when Matt made the overture.

“I… Well, perhaps we could discuss the matter over dinner?” Something in his tone changed, from professional to… perhaps vaguely flirtatious? Languages were your forte, but sometimes you could miss subtle cues. You wondered if, perhaps, the attraction you felt for Matt wasn’t entirely one-sided.

“Are you flirting, Mr. Murdock?” You asked, trying to sound seductive and probably sounding more like an excited teenage girl. Damn.

“I… Well…” you seemed to knock him off balance, which made you smile, a little. He always seemed so serious in your interactions before, and this was a welcome change.

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?” you said, managing a giggle. You heard Matt sigh over the line, and for a moment, you weren’t sure whether it was a sigh of relief, or if he was about to tell you to piss off.

“I see. So, tomorrow night then?” Matt asked you, and you fought the urge to cheer.

“Tomorrow night. I’ll meet you at your office.” You confirmed.

And yes, when you said your goodbyes and got off the phone, you _did_ do a little cheer.

* * *

That first date was an interesting one. The two of you met at a divey, hole-in-the-wall place you told Matt that you often found yourself at when you were knee-deep in translation work and couldn’t be bothered to cook.

“Sometimes I need to escape my apartment walls, or I’ll go crazy,” you told him.

The two of you ordered and settled into easy conversation as you waited. You learned Matt had a sarcastic and dry sort of wit at times, and he saw that you had a fiery but tightly controlled temper, that he was originally on the wrong side of. He had given you a smirk when you told him what you had thought of him during your initial translation work.

“A prick, huh?” he was obviously amused.

“In my defense, you _were_ being a bit of a jackass. Sometimes the local idioms don’t quite translate over, so I have to think of the rough equivalent of what a client is saying that suits the general context.” You said, and tried not laugh as you took a sip of your beer. “It’s harder to do that when you’re translating speaking. Written work you can take your time, but with speaking you have to be quick.”

The conversation continued easily throughout your meal. Matt shared some of his past with you, about the accident that blinded him and living in an orphanage. When he spoke of his father, though, you could tell the depth of love he had for him. It made you smile.

You had shared your past as well, about growing up in a Jewish household with your parents and three older brothers, about the car accident. You didn’t tell him all about it, just that your parents and two brothers had died in a car accident you walked away from mostly unscathed. That was depressing enough, really. He didn’t need to know the full story. Something told you from the sad, sympathetic facsimile of a smile on his face that he already knew some details from your brother, or perhaps Matt just understood that the loss was too painful to talk about in detail.

After that, the conversation became light again. Matt told you law school anecdotes about himself and Foggy, the trouble they were prone to getting into. It made you laugh the way he described himself and Foggy as basically some law student comedic duo, one pulling the other into whatever scheme that needed the two of them to pull off. Matt seemed to enjoy the sound of your laughter, and it egged him on into telling more tales.

 You told him about how your work in translation had started. It had been a hobby at first, when you went to live with your grandparents and your grandfather had noticed your skill at picking up the meanings of the German words he scattered in his speech. From there, it had become something of an obsession for you, as you tried to figure out words in other languages and how grammar and syntax played and changed, how idioms would translate over, how stressing the wrong syllable would render a sentence incomprehensible.

The date lasted for hours as the conversation flowed. When you were done, the two of you stepped outside, Matt’s arm in yours. You flagged down a cab for Matt, but as you were about to leave him to it and walk home, he stopped you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and you found yourself staring into his face, looking for any sign of a come-on from Matt, a sign that he was only playing you. You found nothing but a hopeful expression you had never seen before. It looked endearing, and made you almost breathless.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

Matt took your hand, practically guiding you in as you seemed to freeze. You managed to regain your wits and closed in the last bit of space between the two of you to give him a chaste kiss. Matt’s fingers gently raked through your hair, sending a slight shiver down your spine. It was only the sound of the cab’s horn that brought you back from the kiss.

As you pulled away, your eyelids fluttered. Matt was smiling, you noticed, not some cocky grin like you expected, but a small half-smile that seemed to radiate over you and make you feel light. You blinked again, trying to regain your bearings.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Matt told you, but you almost seemed to feel the words rather than hear them.

“Monday,” you repeated, feeling almost numbed and drugged in your bliss.

Matt got into the cab, and you stood for a minute and watched it drive off before shaking your head and turning to walk, still feeling light.

That was how it began. You and Matt moved at a slow pace after the date. You were dating, but he didn’t want to hold any claim to you, nor you to him. The two of you had busy lives, and were serious adults, and holding each other to some idealistic view of romance wasn’t your bag. Besides, shortly after you and Matt had the date, your schedule for translating foreign novels began to pick up, and that required some extensive travel. For months, you and Matt were restricted to text, phone calls, and Skype.  Sure, you were in town some, but even then, Matt seemed unreachable a lot of nights.

At first, it didn’t bother you, what with your own general busy life, but you found yourself missing him. It didn’t help that he often didn’t give you much of an excuse besides being busy. You knew that being a lawyer was tough, but Matt never seemed to have free time. Finally, you decided to call him on it.

“Is it… have you met someone else?” you asked. The two of you were talking over the phone. It was summer, and you were in Prague, taking part in talks for a major American publishing house to purchase English translation and distribution rights for a Czech novel that was gaining international praise. The talks had gone well, and you were slated to be the translator once the contracts were processed, so you had called Matt to share your good news and make plans for once you were back in New York. Matt, however, had been hesitant, causing you to pull out that question on him.

“What? No!” Matt said, sounding like he was offended at the very possibility. “I’ve just-“

“Been busy. I get it.” You said, feeling… disappointed? Forlorn? You had no idea.

You heard Matt sigh over the phone line.

“Look, Matt, I’ll talk to you later, maybe when I get back.” You said, anxious to get off the phone.

You heard Matt call your name just as you clicked your phone off.

* * *

If your courtship had been a cringeworthy romantic comedy, Matt would have met you at the airport. As it was, waiting in the lobby of your apartment building _was_ a close second.

“How did you know when I was getting back?” you asked him, the hurt having faded somewhat by then. You were feeling tired, mostly. From the flight, but also from some other, soul-deep weariness that left you drained and disjointed.

“I may have bribed your sister-in-law with a bag of Lemonheads. Well, Foggy did. She isn’t acknowledging my existence at the moment.” He told you, which made you snort.

“Yeah, that’s kinda my fault.” You told him, as you led him into your apartment.  “I complain about men, and she becomes like some kind of passive-aggressive Valkyrie in their presence. Pray that you never _really_ piss her off.”

The both of you chuckled at that as you put your bags away and got Matt and yourself some water. Leading him to your couch, you looked over at him, trying to figure out his motive for being here.

“So, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be busy.” You cringed at the accusatory tone you had taken on.

“I… I have been. Busy.” Matt acknowledged, as he attempted to reach for your hand. You reached out and grasped his in yours, and you found yourself relaxing a little as his thumb stroked your knuckles. “But I’ve been thinking of you. A lot.”

You sighed, and pulled your hand away. “Matt-“

“I wanted to explain, but-“

“You don’t owe me anything.” You told him. “We aren’t serious. We’re barely even dating.”

“We could be. If you wanted.” Matt said, and for a moment you felt torn.

You had missed him in Prague, you had always missed him when you were away, but this time it had been different. You had been able to sightsee a bit, and more than once you found yourself wishing he was there with you. Sure, he wouldn’t have been able to appreciate the sheer physical beauty of things like the Church of Our Lady before Týn, but when you took a tour and the guides had a woman play the church’s organ for your group, you wished Matt had been there beside you to hear it. You had wanted him there to experience the city with you, to lose yourselves together in the city’s charm and wonders. You had envisioned yourself describing parts of the city to him as you passed them. Were you in love with Matt, then? You had no real idea. But you wanted him, _needed_ him in your life so badly in your life that even this short period of no contact had ached.

“I… Do you want this?” you asked him. “Matt, this only works if we’re both all in.”

“I know. I am.” He said, moving his hand to caress your face. You took a deep, steadying breath and placed your hand over his, stilling it for a moment.

“Matt.” You paused again, trying not to let your head get clouded by how good it felt to have him touch you, having him in close proximity again. “I want this, you. But only if we can both be honest with each other. I’m placing a lot of trust in you. You… I don’t want you hiding from me. And it feels like you are, or you were.”

“No more.” Matt told you, and the smile on his face told you that he was telling the truth, or trying to. Maybe that was enough, for now. “I promise.”

* * *

 

Matt’s promise had been enough, for a while. He seemed less busy once the two of you had reconciled. You went on dates as frequently as your schedules would allow. Not even going out, but sometimes just staying in, laying together in your apartment or his, hands and bodies tangled together, sometimes sexually, sometimes just as a way of sharing emotional closeness,  letting the conversation drift over the two of you as easily as breathing. You never seemed to run out of things to talk about. You found yourself waking up with Matt more and more as time went on, and the feel of his arms around you and his soft sleepy breathing in your ear was a revelation you couldn’t begin to understand.

When he kissed you, it felt like flying. He made love to you like you were something precious, like you were divine and sex was a sacrament. It made you feel lightheaded and dizzy and made of stars, glimmering and lighting the sky. When you lay together after, he would hold you close, whisper words against your skin. Your hands would find his, and the world felt right and good for a while, with just the two of you.

Your relationship had never been a secret, but when the two of you became serious, it was obvious how happy you were. Your brother had joked about wedding bells sometimes, and when your sister-in-law joined in, it made you laugh and things felt good, better than they had been in a while. You had grown content with your life before, but somehow being with Matt made things happier and lighter. It felt like a shift in your universe. Sure, you had dated before, but this was different.

You were in love. And that was okay.

You had no idea about what Matt’s feelings were. It seemed too much to ask. You had already asked for honesty from him, and that seemed like enough for now. If he loved you, he would tell you sooner or later. Or show you. Whatever.

Then he started getting busy again. You would wonder over to his office in the evening after you finished your own work, and he would be gone. Foggy and Karen would try to cheer you up, especially if you were coming by to pick Matt up for a date to find him gone. It never made you feel better. Foggy always made some lame excuse for his friend, which made you smile sadly, wanly. You knew Foggy’s loyalties lay with Matt, but the half-hearted excuses were a level of lame that suggested even Foggy couldn’t believe them.

“Thanks anyway, Foggy,” you always said when he told you that Matt was with a client when you knew he wasn’t even in the office, or off doing research elsewhere when you knew for a fact that any places he could go for that were closed, or in a meeting with a judge at an improbable hour. And you would give that smile you knew probably tugged at heartstrings and went away before Foggy could convince you to join him and Karen at Josie’s.

Your nights were spent alone more often than not, as well. Sometimes Matt would call or come over, but more often than not you spent your nights in bed by yourself, staring at your phone, wondering where he was, if he was alright. If he was with someone else.

Matt didn’t seem to bother with the busy excuse anymore, either. He was cagey, avoidant. Sometimes, you would swear he was nervous, and the idea of the normally unflappable Matt being nervous made you both concerned and suspicious.

You didn’t ask him again, the way you had over the phone in Prague. That time, there hadn’t been what your brother would have termed “feelings and shit.” This time, you wanted to trust him. You didn’t want to accuse, didn’t want to leap to conclusions.

It wasn’t a surprise when he finally ended things, not really. That didn’t make it hurt less. If anything, it made you hurt more, the way all those bottled up fears and thoughts of yours hit at once.

Matt had come over to your apartment. It was a Friday afternoon, and you were surprised to see him. Usually, you were hard at work translating something, but you had decided to relax a little early before picking Matt up from work for an impromptu date.

So when he showed up at your door, you immediately knew something was wrong. You had let him in.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, as you tried to lead him to the living room. Matt seemed out of it, listless and drained. He waved you off, standing in your hallway. He whispered your name, which made you look up at him and wait for him to speak again.

“This… I can’t. I’m sorry.” He told you.

“Matt?” you tried reaching for his hand, but he waved you off again.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, and it hit you.

He was leaving you.

“Why?” You asked, and cursed yourself when the word came out shaky and tinged with the tears that were already threatening to fall. “Did I- Was it something I did?”

“No, no. it’s not you-“

“Don’t you _dare_ say that it’s you, Matt. That’s just…” you sighed, and tried to brush angrily at the tears in your eyes. He might not have been able to see them, but you were damned if you were going to cry in front of him at that moment. “Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s just not working out.” Matt told you. He was trying to sound detached, like he wanted to be unemotional and make a clean break.

But he was also failing miserably at it.

“Matt, whatever I did, please, just tell me! Please!” you begged, all little pride and stoicism you had left going out the window as you openly let the tears fall now. Matt attempted to pull you closer to him in defiance of his earlier behavior, but you tried to shrug him off. That only made him grip you tighter.

“It’s me, okay? It’s me. You… You didn’t do anything, it was always me. You have to believe that.” Matt had lowered his voice, and for a moment, it reminded you of all those times you had made love, the way he whispered against your skin. It only made the metaphorical knife twist deeper.

“Get out.” You told him, the tears almost choking you and making your voice waver. “Get out.”

Matt let go of you, and after a moment’s hesitation, he left. It was only when the door had clicked closed behind him and you heard his footsteps fade and you allowed yourself to slide to the floor and weep.

* * *

 

You hadn’t heard from Matt since then, not directly.  You retreated within yourself for a while, but you couldn’t stay that way forever. Your friends were kind enough to commiserate with you, getting you drunk on cheap wine and letting you vent on more than one occasion. You threw yourself into work, translating the Czech novel from your Prague visit in record time and picking up several more jobs as a result of your work being positively received. The work centered you a little, made you calmer. Even in the midst of your personal life falling apart, the work of translation was there to keep your mind elsewhere.

When you finally told your brother and your sister-in-law what had happened with Matt, your brother had made a half-hearted offer to kick Matt’s ass, which made you laugh and cry. You asked your brother to tell Nelson and Murdock if they needed a translator, they would have to go elsewhere. You needed distance, and knew that your ability to be professional when it came to Matt Murdock was compromised, perhaps forever.

As far as you could tell, the message had been sent and received. You didn’t get calls from Karen requesting translations, and you certainly didn’t hear directly from Foggy or Matt. As far as you could tell, your brother maintained a polite working relationship with them, as your brother’s practice both sent and received clients from Nelson and Murdock. However, any friendliness began and ended there.

Your sister-in-law was slightly more vicious. She still remained her professional legal secretary self, but on the occasions you happened to be in the office and your world collided with Nelson and Murdock, she refused to speak to Matt directly at all if she could help it, and referred to Foggy and Karen on a last name basis, in a cold tone that bordered on arctic. You suspected she was like that with them all the time now. She had always been protective of you, even when she and your brother had only been dating, and you knew even if she and your brother hadn’t married, you would have probably still regarded her as family.

You had been unlucky enough to witness an interaction where your sister-in-law absolutely _had_ to speak to Matt. You had to drop off some documents to your brother, and while you met with him in his office, Matt had stopped by, which caused the conversation between you and your brother to still as you both listened intently.

“ _Mr._ Murdock. How may I help _you_ today?” Your sister-in-law’s voice was soft and velvety, but you knew the velvet was wrapped around steel and ready to strike in a second.

As Matt explained why he was there, you couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle-snort. He was obviously bothered by the near-open hostility judging from the equally steely tone to his voice, but it was like the two of them were in engaged in a duel of some sort. As long as both remained professional, they were at a standstill.

Matt had asked to speak to your brother. You raised an eyebrow and looked over at the sibling in question, but he raised his arms and shook his head to indicate he had no idea what was going on.

“I’m _so_ sorry, Mr. Murdock,” you heard your sister-in-law say in a tone that clearly indicated otherwise. “He’s in an appointment with a translator.”

You and your brother managed to keep it together at that, but you flatly refused to look each other in the eye, knowing that if you did, you would likely collapse into laughter and never stop.

“Oh.” You heard Matt say, and instantly all manner of the professional lawyer veneer seemed to vanish from what you could hear. “I’ll… I’ll just give him a call later then.”

He had left, and you finally began laughing, and the sound summoned your sister-in-law to the office, where she and your brother made light jokes about the experience until you left.

You wondered later if they had noticed your tears, or just thought it was a side effect of the hysterical giggling.

* * *

That had been months ago. You had wallowed in misery for a while, and maybe your heart still felt broken, but you were sick of your apartment, sick of your sorrow, sick of yourself. You texted some of your friends and made plans to go out. You wanted to forget for a while.

You went to a club and promptly ditched your friends in favor of shots and dancing. You hated the music, but with some rum in you, you could deal with it. Besides, it wasn’t about the music, your friends, or even getting drunk. It was about reaching some type of oblivion, about killing the dark sorrows whispering and grabbing at your heart.

It wasn’t working. The liquor only made you morose, and dancing with other men made you feel ill. It was impersonal; it made you feel disgusted with yourself. You missed the feeling of being wanted and desired, and while you could have had that in this club if you wanted, something else was missing. Something that made the feeling complete and transcendent, and you knew that it wasn’t just about forgetting Matt now, it was about forgetting those feelings, letting all of them rot and die so that you could forget.

But it wasn’t working. You only felt even more lost than before. You abandoned your agenda and looked around. Your friends had scattered into the club and were busy with their own agendas and plans, which left you by yourself.

Great. Once again, you were left with your own worst company.

You retreated into the women’s restroom. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you sighed and ran a hand through your hair. You hated this. Why couldn’t you just move on?

“This was a terrible idea,” you muttered, scrubbing at your face with your hand, like you were trying to wipe away everything that had happened tonight.

You sent your friends a quick text and left, deciding to walk home. The click of your heels on pavement was a welcome sound. It reminded you of your heartbeat, reminded you that you were still alive in spite of everything that sought to drag you down. A small reminder, but one you needed.

Unfortunately, your heels were ten times more difficult to walk in after so many shots. You stumbled, and you felt hands reach out from somewhere behind you to pull you back up. As you attempted to gracefully turn, you realized it was one of the men you had danced with. He must have followed you. In a normal situation, your defenses would have been up instantly. But tonight had been a quest for oblivion, and you could only slowly realize something felt off.

“Thanks,” you said to him, trying to shrug the man’s hands off you.

He held firm. In your clouded mind you had a dim realization of what was happening.

“No,” you mumbled, trying to shake the guy off as he got closer. Finally your mind had a brief moment of clarity and you raised your voice and tried to shove him away. “NO!”

That only succeeded in pissing him off. He slammed you into the nearest building. You let out a cry of pain as your head swam even more. You couldn’t shrug the guy off, but you attempted to put space between him and yourself. You managed to jab one of your heels into his instep the way you had been taught in some half-forgotten self defense class you took in college. This made him let you go, but you were still unsteady and fell to the pavement, hitting your head hard.

In your daze, you could hear the guy get his bearings back and move over to you, getting on top of you. You closed your eyes, and tried to breath, in an attempt to let out one last cry for help. But you were just too weak.

As you fell unconscious, you thought you felt the weight of your attacker fall away.

* * *

You heard someone calling your name. Everything felt fuzzy, but the voice was getting clearer, louder, though never above a loud whisper.

“Please wake up, please…”

Your eyes drifted open only to slam shut again at the throbbing pain in your temple. You groaned and tried to will away the pain.

You were no longer in the street near the bar, that was for sure. It felt like… a couch? Specifically your couch; you could remember the feel of the soft sinking cushions and cheap velvet. You opened your eyes again, attempting to sit up, but strange hands gently pushed you down.

You began to panic. All thoughts of trying to figure out where you were fell away, as your only thought was to escape, get away from the person holding you down.

“No… No, let me go!” you tried to yell. You felt a hand move to cover your mouth.

“Shh.” The voice was gentle. “It’s alright, you’re safe. You’re home, it’s okay now...”

The hand fell away from your mouth, and gently the hands helped you sit up. Your eyes finally managed to focus as you took calming breaths. You _were_ home, on your own couch. But how? And who…

You realized with a start it was Daredevil kneeling before you. He looked imposing in his costume, but what you could see of the look on his face… Remorse? Regret?

“I-“ You tried to ask him what happened, but the pain made you groan. Daredevil placed gentle hands on you and made shushing noises again.

“Nothing’s broken. You might have the world’s worst headache and some bruised ribs, but nothing serious.  You’re okay, I promise.” His voice seemed to crack on the last sentence.

“I… He was- he-” the reality of the situation was hitting you, and you were headed straight for a panic attack.

“No.” Daredevil interrupted you, his voice hard now. “I got there, before. He didn’t get a chance.”

But the tears began to roll down your face. You knew what would have happened if Daredevil hadn’t saved you. You cursed yourself, for being stupid enough to walk that late at night by yourself, after drinking, in those clothes. You ranted out loud about how it was your fault.

“No.” In the middle of your rant, Daredevil spoke again. His voice was soft again, but it held the same level of conviction. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“How do you know? God, I just wanted to forget everything for _one_ night. I didn’t want to sit at home and be miserable.” You had no idea why you were pouring out your soul to the masked man in your living room. Something about him made you feel comfortable, safe. Maybe because he _had_ saved you, after all.

“I’m sorry.” Daredevil told you. But the sorrow in his voice made you think he was apologizing for more than what had happened to you tonight.

“What?” that was all you could manage to say.

Daredevil gently reached out a hand to touch your face, but you flinched. Letting his hand drop, you heard him let out a rueful chuckle.

“This is all my fault. I’m sorry.” He said again, his hands reaching for his mask. “For everything.”

He removed his mask, and you saw Matt’s face looking back at you.

“Matt? But-“ This was _not_ helping your head. Your ex-boyfriend, your _blind_ ex-boyfriend, was sitting before you, and he was apparently also the masked vigilante who saved you from getting raped. “How?”

“It’s a… It’s not important.” He told you. He reached out a hand again to touch you, but he paused and his hand hung there in midair. “I left because I had to protect you. From this, from me. I couldn’t… I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“But I did anyway.” You didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but something in your voice made Matt flinch. The sorrow and pain on his face was palpable.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He whispered again.  “I need you to forgive me. I never… I never wanted anything to happen to you. That’s why I left.”

“Yeah, well, it did.” you said, struggling to get up from the couch. Matt stood and tried to stop you, but you managed to maneuver away from him and stand up.

Now you _were_ angry. Who was he to demand forgiveness from you? He had lied to you about this, about being Daredevil. He left you without an explanation. He had let you believe the worst in him. You didn’t care about how or why. Safe? He wanted you _safe_? So much for _that_ , he left you to save you and you ended up getting hurt and needing him anyway.

Needing him. You _hated_ it. Worse than loving him. Love could go away, but need… Need stuck around, made a home in your head like an unwanted guest.

“Go away, Matt.” It was all you could manage to say. You tried to walk away but Matt took your arm.

“Don’t walk away, please. We can-“ he tried to say, which tipped your anger to the boiling point.

“Walk away? Really?” You found yourself raising your voice as you pulled your arm out of Matt’s grip. “You walked away! Not me.” Your voice broke and you slid down to the floor, tears escaping your eyes. “Not me, Matt.”

“I know,” he whispered, joining you down on the floor. “I walked away from you. I thought it was for the best. But…”

He trailed off, looking away from you to the floor. In spite of yourself, you reached for his hand, which made him look up in your direction.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he told you, gripping your hand in his. “Not once. That’s why I was able to find you tonight.”

He began explaining about his enhanced senses, and you listened intently, almost forgetting about the hurt that looking at Matt made you feel. You felt his thumb stroking your knuckles, and it reminded you of how he had been waiting for you when you came home from Prague. It’s more calming than you’d like to admit, but you keep listening to Matt.

“I found myself focusing on you, after the breakup.” He tells you. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. But... I missed you, so much. I was going to talk to you that day, in your brother’s office. I could hear your heartbeat, and I wanted to explain everything. About me, about Daredevil. I don’t know if I was going to just ask forgiveness, or more. I wanted to tell you to stay away, or beg you to take me back… I don’t know. I didn’t have much of a plan.”

“But my sister-in-law stopped you.” You said.

“No. It was you.” Matt told you, and your eyes widened. “I… being so close, I could feel all the pain and distress I was causing. I hurt you.”

“So why tonight?”

Matt looked away, to the floor again. You took your other hand, the one not holding Matt’s, and gently reached out to touch his face and bring his eyes back to yours.

“You were afraid, scared. You couldn’t defend yourself.” Matt’s eyes were tear-filled now, and you reached out to wipe them away. “I tried to protect you from that. But it was my fault. Mine, not Daredevil. I hurt you when that was the last thing I wanted. You wouldn’t have been out tonight if it wasn’t for me. I just keep hurting you.”

“Matt…” What could you say? He hurt you, but he hurt you to protect you. You getting hurt tonight hadn’t been his fault. It hadn’t been yours, either, really. It was the fault of the guy he saved you from.

“I love you.” Matt told you, reaching out and cupping your face in his hands. “I love you, and I just keep hurting you.”

He had never told you that before, that he loved you. In spite of everything, it made you happy to hear that. He loved you. He loved you back. Everything you felt for him, he felt for you. That was why he had left, you knew. He loved you too much to risk you getting hurt by the criminals he fought. He was, in his way, protecting you.

Well, your grandmother _did_ used to say that love made you stupid.

“You should have told me.” You said.

Matt nodded, looking resigned.

“Everything. I know.” He said, letting his hands fall away from your face. “I’m sorry.”

Matt moved to get up, but you grabbed his hands and pulled him back down.

“Matt, please.” You said, leaning forward so that your forehead touched his. “I love you, too. Don’t… Don’t leave again.”

And you kissed him with all the passion you could muster. Matt seemed stunned for a moment, but then he wove his hands into your hair and kissed back. When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his again.

Neither one of you moved for a long time. Finally, Matt spoke.

“I love you.” He whispered. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, Matt. I understand that.” You said. “But I’m not sure I can forgive you just yet. I love you, Matt, and I’m willing to face whatever happens if you stay. But if you leave again, that’s it, there’s no going back. I won’t be able to take it.”

“I know. I want… I want to stay. If you’ll let me. And I swear I’ll make everything up to you.” You may not have been able to detect lies the way Matt could, but you didn’t need to. You knew he was telling the truth.

“I know you will. This… you being Daredevil… You know I would have understood, right? I wouldn’t have asked you to walk away from that. I would worry, but I always worry about you. Kind of part of the whole love thing.” You said, smiling.

“I know. Or I should’ve known. I thought…” he trailed off with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“No,” you agreed, but the smile faded from your face. “But it matters that you lied. Twice, actually. You lied by omission about Daredevil, and you lied about why you left.”

You stood, and Matt followed. You turned away from him, but he put his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him. You didn’t mind. You only wanted to gather your thoughts, and being face-to-face with Matt made that difficult, with all your conflicting emotions.

“I told you, when I got back from Prague, that you needed to be honest with me. That you didn’t have to hide.” You whispered. “You lied. And you hid. I know why, now, but you still did it. That hurts more than the leaving.”

“No more. I promise.” He said, his breath on your neck. It made you think of happier times, the way he whispered against your skin.

“You said that. Last time. Those exact words.” It made you think of that, too, and instead of being comforting, it was a stab to the heart.

“I know better now. I thought I was protecting you, then. But I hurt you. I don’t want to do that anymore.” Matt gently turned you to face him, and you buried your head against his shoulder. “I want to protect you. Not hurt you.”

“Matt. Don’t hurt me, don’t protect me. Don’t do any of that.” You told him, looking up at him. “Just love me. That’s all I want.”

Matt frowned at that. “You could be hurt, being with me. The ones I love… I need to protect.”

“Then protect me, if you have to. But stay and love me, too. Don’t run and hide.”

Matt nodded before turning your face up and catching your lips in a kiss.

It may not be perfect yet. There’s a long road to go before you can trust Matt with your heart completely. But you know he loves you, and you love him. That’s all you need right now, all you ever really needed, from the moment you met him.

This moment, here in your apartment, is enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> This... turned out longer than I expected. Oops?


End file.
